Work Text:
The once pristine stainless steel counter was now a cacophony of miniature disasters. The deep, metallic bowl dripped a slow, heavy blob of caramel, pooling on the counter below its rim. The entire right side of the counter was covered in a thin layer of flour, as was a patch on the backsplash, somehow. There was a fingerprint of melted chocolate left on the edge of the counter as Bakugo pulled his hand away. Before noticing the remnant of food on his hand, he gripped the front of his hair in frustration.
The glob of attempted chocolate sat to his left. He would only refer to it as attempted because there was no way in hell what he created was anything edible. And the mound of sweets resembled to him a monster of his failings; a glob that he wished would come to life and commit suicide by falling into the nearby trash can. Luckily he had placed it on a sheet of parchment, unsure if he left the form directly on the counter if it would become a permanent installation.
Ladies and gentlemen, if you look to your left, you will see the exact moment of realization when Bakugo Katsuki failed as a boyfriend and chef. Unable to make a simple chocolate dessert for Valentine’s Day, he is a complete and utter failure.
Fuck this.
Bakugo reached his hand up, pulling down one of the multitude of cook books Kirishima had on a shelf above his station. He flipped to the index, searching for ‘chocolate’. After a few recipes he immediately dismissed, he landed on one that emulated his original blind attempt. After years of being a chef, he hadn’t touched a cookbook for guidance. Sure, they make great references for inspiration, but following another person’s recipe? He outwardly scoffed at the idea. Unfortunately, this world of pastries was out of his wheelhouse and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed the help.
Normally, he would ask Kirishima for assistance. He never felt defeated when he would lean on Kirishima, no matter what the circumstance. He pegged that entirely on Kirishima’s ability to encourage him; he never judged when Bakugo failed, he never laughed at his inability to understand simple boyfriend tasks, and he also never shied away from the explosive temper Bakugo would showcase during especially frustrating moments. But in this instance, in this particular struggle, Bakugo had to do this solo. He couldn’t very well turn to the person for whom he was making the chocolates for. Not when it was a surprise. For Valentine’s Day. Which was tomorrow.
Fuck. He should just give up and buy something.
But he knew, even if he had to resort to turning over his glob of failed chocolate, that Kirishima would appreciate it more than anything store bought. He would see the effort, and the time, as much more valuable. And he would probably eat the entire glob in one sitting, just to prove to Bakugo how thankful he was. Unsure if the glob would actually kill his boyfriend, Bakugo resounded to reading the recipe.
“Okay, you fucker. If you think you can teach me something, I’m all ears. Tell me exactly how I fucked up and make this better.”
He leaned over the counter, setting up the book against the back wall, and shoving a wooden spoon against it to keep it open on his desired page. His forearm landed in the sheen of flour, not only dusting his skin, but somehow already marking his black t-shirt. Ignoring the inconvenience of forgetting to put on an apron, he started to collect the ingredients for his second attempt.
Sugar, corn syrup, a brick of semi-sweet chocolate, and vanilla lined the back of the counter, just off to the side so as not to block his view of the cookbook. He headed to the fridge to gather the last two items. Keeping his foot on the door, he easily grabbed the butter, but the heavy cream was just out of reach. He sighed, letting the door close on him as he took the extra two steps needed to reach the back of the walk in fridge. His hand paused on the small carton, a smile moving his lips as he recalled the first day Kirishima started at Nitro. The first time Bakugo saw the determination in Kirishima’s eyes. The first time he got too close for his own good. He remembered feeling Kirishima’s tense shoulder under his palm, and wanting to do anything in his power to relieve him. He also remembered the urge to pull Kirishima towards him; to kiss him. It took a constant barrage of self discipline to pull away and walk out of the tiny, enclosed space when he knew, in that moment, that he was absolutely fucked.
Walking out of the fridge now, cream and butter in hand, he still couldn’t wipe the smile from his lips.
“Whatcha smiling about?”
The voice caused Bakugo to jump, nearly dropping his ingredients. Seeing the object of his recent daydream standing in front of him, holding two takeout coffees in his mitten covered hands, his furrowed brow relaxed immediately. Then concern and panic washed over him as Kirishima glanced over to his right.
“What the hell did you do to my station?”
“Nothing,” Bakugo blatantly lied. He scooted past Kirishima to place down the cream and butter, turning to relieve Kirishima of one of the coffees. He knew Kirishima would prod, yet just for a moment, Bakugo wished for him to accept the terrible lie, ignore whatever Bakugo was doing, and leave.
“Babe, it’s a fucking disaster,” Kirishima laughed, bringing the coffee to his lips.
“It’s not that bad,” Bakugo relented.
“Can you at least get off my back about keeping a clean station?” Kirishima moved behind Bakugo, placing down his own coffee so he could wrap his arms around Bakugo’s waist and leaning his chin on Bakugo’s shoulder. “Now you know it’s not so easy keeping this shit pristine.”
Kirishima had yet to take off his jacket, the puffy, black, nylon sleeves felt cool from the winter air against Bakugo’s warmed arms. His mittens still trapped his hands, so Bakugo pulled them off, tossing them on the shelf above their heads, just so he could wrap his fingers around Kirishima’s.
“You at least know what you’re doing.” Bakugo felt his shoulders slump. Now that Kirishima was here and saw his disastrous attempt, he didn’t so much care about his bravado. He pushed his back into Kirishima, signifying he wanted a hug. Without needing to ask, Kirishima reciprocated the touch, squeezing his arms tighter, and placing a light kiss along Bakugo’s neck.
“And what, pray tell, are you doing exactly?” Kirishima moved his hand to reach for the mound of chocolate and caramel. Just as his fingertips detached one of the glob’s pieces, Bakugo cringed.
“Don’t-“
Before Bakugo could finish his warning, the piece made it past Kirishima’s lips. Bakugo turned to gauge the reaction, and to his confusion, Kirishima didn’t immediately spit it out. Instead, he chewed the piece, probably longer than needed, before swallowing.
“Not terrible. I mean….it’s edible.”
“What a spectacular review. Do you think it should go on the menu?” Bakugo lightly punched Kirishima’s shoulder, only to have his hand pulled up to Kirishima’s lips, a firm kiss placed on his knuckles.
“Absolutely not. We wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation. But…do you want my help?” Kirishima’s eyes scanned over the preparations for attempt number two. He took a step back to remove his coat, hanging it up beside his apron.
“No fucking way,” Bakugo snapped. To no avail, however, as the apron was delicately placed over his head, Kirishima wrapping his arms around his waist again, but this time tying the strings in a tight bow. Just before he pulled away, another light kiss brushed against Bakugo’s neck.
“I’m guessing you’re trying to make chocolates. Right?” Kirishima moved back from Bakugo’s space, turning again to assess the counter.
“No.” Bakugo knew he was pouting.
“No?” Kirishima gave him a smirk, eyeing Bakugo unbelieving.
“Not just chocolates. Chocolate caramels. With sea salt.”
This was not how he wanted this to go. He was supposed to have a tin of homemade chocolates ready tomorrow. Perfectly square with the exact ratio of salty to sweet, and presented to Kirishima first thing in the morning. He imagined walking up behind Kirishima, who would be wiping sleep from his eyes, and surprising him with their first Valentine’s Day gift. He never once cared about gifts and cards and sappy holidays before, but something about his love for Kirishima made him want to try. He wanted to show this man every fucking day how much he loved him, and what a more convenient time to showcase it than a holiday specifically curated for that purpose. So what if he’s doing it a little last minute…
And it was still all wrong. He couldn’t even muster the ability to surprise Kirishima. Not even do it on his own. As he adjusted the apron to sit comfortably, he watched Kirishima move swiftly through his station. He reached for two small pots from under the counter, moving the one Bakugo had used prior into the sink. He placed one pot in front of Bakugo, using the other himself. He positioned it under the lip of the counter, delicately maneuvering the glob of sweet into the pot with a thud. He turned to place it on the stove behind them, turning the burner to low.
“…time in the blaster anyway?”
As Bakugo heard the last few words, he realized Kirishima had been talking for quite some time as he zoned out, drowning in his own self pity. He focused his brain, looking as Kirishima confused.
“Cooling them? How long did you put them in the blast chiller? Or did you just refrigerate it?” Kirishima asked again, grabbing a spoon from a drawer.
“I dunno. Like a minute?”
“One minute?” Kirishima paused his stirring to look over his shoulder.
“I didn’t want them to freeze,” Bakugo defended. He started to read the first section of the recipe, listening to Kirishima softly laugh behind him.
“Try five minutes this time. And don’t get impatient and check on them.”
And so they worked together in Kirishima’s station. With each new step, Kirishima offered a suggestion to Bakugo’s recipe. Every once in a while they would brush their arms together as they melted chocolate on the stove, Kirishima leaning into Bakugo’s shoulder as he smiled at a joke. He watched Kirishima working from the corner of his eye as he took Bakugo’s failed experiment and reworked it. The now melted caramel and chocolate mix was poured on to the slab of stainless steel counter that was not covered with tools and utensils. Kirishima was able to create a sheet of chocolate, adding in a bit of ingredients every so often and working the more sticky than normal substance so it became pliable. As Bakugo finally opened the blast chiller to insert the squared chocolates, he turned to watch Kirishima start cutting his chocolate into long strips, rolling each one up. He fanned out the edges delicately, pinching every few centimetres, creating what appeared to be a flower. Kirishima cupped one in his hand, presenting it to Bakugo.
“How the fuck…?” Bakugo stared at the delicate, edible ornament.
“Years of practice, babe. I figured I couldn’t let anything you worked on go to waste,” Kirishima stepped forward, raising his free hand to run along Bakugo’s jaw. He leaned in, moving his hand back to cup the nape of Bakugo’s neck, pulling him closer. Bakugo smiled, closing the small gap between them.
The air in their corner of the kitchen was dense with the scent of sugar, so much that Bakugo could taste the sweetness on Kirishima’s lips. His hunger urged him to move closer as Bakugo’s fingers clung to the hem of Kirishima’s shirt, the tip of his pinky feeling the warm skin underneath as the shirt balled into Bakugo’s fist. The sound of Kirishima’s reactive moan being cut off by the timer forced a growl from Bakugo’s chest. They each took a step back, their attention now regrettably focussed on the task at hand.
Kirishima followed Bakugo the two steps to reach the blast chiller. Before Bakugo opened the door, he gave one last look over his shoulder. Kirishima looked on with anticipation. The tray came out with a much more satisfactory result. So far the perfectly measured squares looked like the photo in the recipe book, and, more importantly, the image in Bakugo’s mind. He rested the tray down on the counter, picking up one chocolate between his thumb and index finger. He turned, offering it to Kirishima.
To his confusion, Kirishima’s hand shot up, refusing the gift.
“What? You helped, so they have to be better than what you ate earlier. They fucking look a hell of a lot better. Come on-“
“I get them tomorrow, right?” Kirishima’s smile was small, but the spark in his eyes warmed Bakugo. Kirishima had turned back to his own work, rolling another strip of chocolate. As Bakugo slowly picked up each piece, transferring them to a takeout container, he couldn’t help the smile that widened.
Things between them easily went unspoken. It’s why they worked so well together, as a couple, and as co-workers. The fact that Bakugo could be struggling, but with Kirishima, he wouldn’t be required to ask for help. Kirishima would know. And Kirishima knew that Bakugo would still want to offer his boyfriend a gift on Valentine’s Day. As silly at it may seem.
“Hey, Ei.”
With both of their backs turned to each other, focussed on their own work, Bakugo heard Kirishima hum in response.
“I fucking love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Some things between them could go unspoken. Bakugo never wanted his love for Kirishima to be one of them.